The Unlucky One
by AutumnFirstLight
Summary: Her society says she is an unlucky child, cursed by life to be alone and unloved, hardly human because of what has happened to her. North disagrees. One shot. Rating for references to bad things happening to people.


A/N: WARNING, this story is gritty. Also, anything said about Russia in this story is not an indicator of what Russia is or is not like, though they are all quotes from native Russians I have met, or statements from Human Rights Watch. However; plenty of people in every country have plenty of opinions about that country. I have the flu, or something like it, so I suspect that's the misery that spawned this story. Also, sorry for not having chapter 8 of When We Fall Down out yet. I have started writing it; I just got bogged down with graduate applications and class starting and getting sick. Hopefully I can have it up before Monday morning.

The Unlucky One

Zoya is six years old. Her mother died from krokodil. She watched as the drug ate her mother from the inside out, bones exposed to the air before she died. Zoya doesn't know her father, he raped her mother one night when she strayed into the wrong part of town. She's too young and has had too hard a life to be scandalized by this fact. In Zoya's world every woman gets raped. It is simply what happens. It is normal. Zoya feels lucky that she does not know many men.

Zoya had been on her own for more than a week in their tiny cold apartment, taking what little money her mother had to buy food, sheltering herself in the blankets next to her mother's body, before an elderly neighbor (or, she seemed elderly to Zoya) took her in. A few days later she went to the orphanage. Zoya feels lucky. The woman told her terrible things could have happened to her if the landlord had found out and kicked her out onto the streets. Now Zoya eats every day and has a bed, even if the adults hit her and the other children yell.

There is also a family that wants to adopt her. They are from Australia. The man is black and the woman is white. They say they have two children already, a daughter and a son. Their son is adopted. They say that because of cancer they cannot have any more children of their own. Zoya tries not to look at the man, she does not know what father's should be like, but he does not seem mean.

"It is almost Christmas," The woman says to her in broken Russian. "Grandfather Frost will visit you soon."

"Ded Moroz?" asks Zoya. Her mother never told her about him. Why would a grandfather come to her? "Is he mean?" she asks. The Australian woman laughs.

"No, no," she says, "he brings gifts to the children."

Zoya nods and wonders if Ded Moroz, Grandfather Frost, will bring her anything. He never has before.

The Australians leave but promise they will return. They say they will get her and take her home with them. They say that where they live it is warm all the time. She does not know if she believes them.

New Year's Eve comes and there is a knock on the door of the orphanage. The director sputters and stutters but the man pushes his way in. He has brown leather boots and a heavy embroidered coat. He is a big strong man, and tall, but has a kind look to his face.  
As the children stream down to gather around him the throws his arms wide. "Happy Christmas!" he bellows. There is a petite woman beside him; she smiles at the children.

"I have gifts for you all!" the man continues. Many of the children cheer. The director just watches as though she knows she cannot stop what is happening, even if she does not like it. He begins to pull packages from his bag. He reads the names. Some he distributes, some the women beside him hands out. Zoya is surprised when her name is called. She pushes her way to the front of the group and the big man crouches down and looks her in the eye.

"Are you Grandfather Frost?" she asks.

He nods, "I am, but you can call me North, and this is my Snowmaiden," he gestures to the woman beside him. The children who are listening gasp in delight. "And this," says Grandfather grandly, "is for you." He pulls out what seems to Zoya to be a large package, and hands it to her. It is light, but awkward and she stumbles back with it. "Zoya," Grandfather calls as she turns to run away.

"Yes, Grandfather Frost?"

He smiles at her, "My dear, have faith."

Alone in a corner Zoya opens her gift. It is a stuffed bear. On it are words. They are words Zoya knows. One is her name, embroidered on the stomach. The other is something the Australian woman taught her to read. Zoya feels lucky, she doesn' t know how to read anything else.

"my tebya lyubim."

We love you.

Zoya is six, and she thinks she is quite lucky.

* * *

A/N: Please review. It's nice and lets other people know this story is worth looking at. Thanks!


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